The Blackest Sea
by Heta Noitio
Summary: Schuldig asks Crawford if he has thought of what comes after you die. Things happen, and not all of them are pleasant.
1. He Doesn’t Know That

**Title:** The Blackest Sea  
**Author:** Heta Noitio  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters:** Crawford, Schuldig, Nagi (possible Crawford/Schuldig)  
**Warnings:** character death, mild yaoi, swearing  
**Summary:** Schuldig asks Crawford if he has thought what comes after death. Things happen.  
**Disclaimer:** Weiss Kreuz belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss.

**Chapters:** 1/6  
**Status:** work in progress

**A/N:** This is... plain weird. I was tired and my neck was hurting real bad when I wrote this around 11 pmmonths ago. So forgive me the lack of plot and other sane stuff. I wrote this straight to computer from my notebook, barely edited and added a little.  
The first chapter ofmy first longer,finished fic. Present tense.

Comments, please.

Chapter One: He Doesn't Know That This Is His Last Drive

Schuldig follows Crawford with his eyes when he works. The German is perched comfortably on his worktable and swings his legs back and forth once in a while. His usual smirk is on its place, even if his eyes are thoughtful.

The precog ignores him. He has a report to be done: their latest mission wasn't as successful as it should have been, and the Elders want to know why. Crawford knows Schwarz might be punished - if he isn't assuring enough. He re-reads the text he's written and frowns a little. It's not one of his best explanations, but it is enough.

He has seen it.

The German on his table doesn't move when he gets up and faxes the report. Schuldig just turns his head, keeping Crawford in his sight.

When the report is faxed, Crawford puts the original in a folder where all the other failure reports are.

There aren't many. Schwarz is a good team.

"Hey Brad."

The American doesn't turn to look at Schuldig but puts the folder back to its place in the bookshelf. He has told Schuldig several times to use his surname and he's isn't going to repeat himself anymore. After a few minutes of cold, uncomfortable silence Schuldig sighs and gives up.

"Crawford." The telepath sounds oddly weary, as if he was awfully tired.

Crawford answers just out of curiosity, still staring at the folder. "Yes?"

"Ever wondered what comes after death?"

The taller man snorts softly - he isn't surprised to hear the question, not really. It's something Schuldig often thinks about. "Don't we all?" he says quietly and returns to his chair. "Why?"

Schuldig shrugs and jumps off the table. "I don't know. For fun." Suddenly he grins at Crawford who watches him carefully. "But wouldn't it be great to find out?"

Only now Crawford notices that Schuldig's eyes are a little too bright, a little too shocking blue. It's his turn to sigh wearily. "Have you taken something, Schuldig?"

"One black beauty." The telepath's grin is like plastered on his face: cold and empty. "But Brad, I _do_ want to know."

The American shakes his head, irritated. "Why don't you go somewhere else and stop disturbing me?" he says flatly, not looking at the redhead.

Schuldig doesn't use drugs often - almost never - but when he does, he's either annoying or sulky. Today, he's just annoying.

Schuldig leaves Crawford's office without a sound.

And when Crawford goes to wake him up in the morning, he's still grinning.

_- end of chapter one._


	2. Feeling Invincible Like

Disclaimer: Not mine. Takehito Koyasu's. Darn.

xxx

Chapter Two: Feeling Invincible Like Death Itself

Schuldig was feeling unwell. He had his eyes closed tight but he knew that he was lying on his back, his mouth tasted like Sahara after the camels had had a break in there and his head hurt like a bitch. This wasn't anything new, since he was used to waking up with a serious hangover, but new wds was gone. Like there were no other people at all. Not even the stranger. When he tried to reach out, nothing happened. Suddenly, he felt very, very trapped in his own head.

Schuldig was now really pissed, because he hated to be scared. And at the moment he damn well was.

"There's no need to be afraid, Christoff." The stranger stood closer now, apparently not offended by Schuldig's cursing at all. His voice was a soft one, all holy-sounding and... No. No no no.

The telepath - or rather, te stranger knew his name, hit him like a jackhammer.

His talent was gone.

There was absolutely no voices in his head except his own: lonely and lost. Even the familiar buzzing that had always been behind his shields was gone. Like there were no other people at all. Not even the stranger. When he tried to reach out, nothing happened. Suddenly, he felt very, very trapped in his own head.

Schuldig was now really pissed, because he hated to be scared. And at the moment he damn well was.

"There's no need to be afraid, Christoff." The stranger stood closer now, apparently not offended by Schuldig's cursing at all. His voice was a soft one, all holy-sounding and... No. No no no.

The telepath - or rather, the ex-telepath - forced mentally his stomach to calm down and turned around. He stared at the ground, surprised: there was nothing but white, smooth surface. It was cool and glass-like when he touched it carefully with his fingers. "Where am I?" he thought out loud, wondering if this place really was--

"You're In Between, Christoff."

Not the Heaven, then. Well, he had never thought he'd go straight to Heaven, anyway. Schuldig tried to organize his thoughts and rouse to all fours. After he shooed the remaining little green men away from his stomach, he stood up, still swaying a little, and looked around.

The stranger was a young man, standing in front of him and wearing a white robe. His hair was dark brown and he had chocolate-coloured eyes. His look was calm and sincere when he looked at the German with slight concern in his eyes. "Are you okay, Christoff?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "I assure you, I'm not gonna harm you..."

Schuldig was holding his robes in seconds - though his speed had only been the one of the normal people. What the hell had happened to him? "I sure as hell I'm gonna harm _you_ if you don't tell me where the fuck I am!" he snarled and shook the man.

The other man broke his grip with amazing ease and removed his hands from his clothes. "I told you already, Christoff. We're in between. My name is Daniel."

"Daniel, huh?" Schuldig asked, wary. He'd have to find a way out of this place, find out what the maniac in front of him had done to him and go home. He felt like he could sleep for days. The man ran a hand through his fiery red hair. "In between", he said experimentally.

Daniel nodded his head, relieved. "Yes, Christoff."

The answer was short and curt. "Schuldig."

"Schuldig", Daniel agreed with a small, exhausted sigh. "I've been sent here to explain you what will follow, since you're a talent." He gestured Schuldig towards a wooden bench he hadn't seen before. "Let's sit down."

Schuldig followed the man to the bench and sat down. "What do you mean, 'what will follow'? Am I... Really?" He swallowed and turned his eyes quickly towards the ground, searching answers from its glassy surface.

If he really was dead... But damn, Brad had pissed him off last night! He had taken another black beauty just to make sure he would be far away in the La-La-Land before the all-mighty leader of Schwarz would come to reprimand him. He hadn't been in the mood to listen Brad's complaining.

Guess it was one pill too much, then.

Daniel leaned towards him and patted his shoulder lightly. "Yes", he said sadly. "You have left the world of the living. But, like I said, you're a talent. You have... several options... after death." He looked uncertain, as if he wasn't sure if he should've been telling this to Schuldig. Who was, as he had always been, the wild card. Even in the place between Heaven and Hell.

Nonetheless, that got the German's attention. His head shot up and he looked intently at Daniel. "Options, you say?" he sounded hopeful. "What are they?"

The angel sighed. "There are three of them. The first one is that you continue on. To Heaven or Hell. Which one, that depends on your actions before your death."

A bitter smile graced Schuldig's delicate features. "I'll pass that, if you don't mind. I know pretty well where I would be going and I definitely dislike the idea. Demons, torturing for the rest of the eternity... That's not my kind of a kink." He leaned on the back of the bench. God, how he missed his cigarettes. "And the other two?"

"The next option is that you fade away." Daniel looked apologetic. "Not many choose this, because that removes them from total existence... There's nothing after you fade. No body, no soul, no consciousness... Nothing. It's pretty much like you never existed."

The thought of just leaving the whole universe tempted Schuldig for a while. But then he shook his head. "No. That would be a huge anti-climax, wouldn't it?" he smirked. "I want something out of my life." He thought about it for a second. "Well, death."

Daniel rose one perfectly-shaped eyebrow. "You sure? Many... unfortunate people choose fading away."

Another shake of head, most definitely determined this time. "No."

"Fine, then." Daniel straightened his back: it was obvious that he was going to keep a lecture. "The third option is that you continue your existence on earth, not as a human but kind of a ghost. You will be able to see other people, hear them, even with a little effort to read their thoughts - almost as you did when you were alive. But there are two rules: you cannot speak to them, and you must not reveal yourself to anyone, ever. If that should happen, you will be judged again and, without any exception, faded. Do you understand the rules?"

The ex-telepath had listened to Daniel with slowly growing eyes. He hadn't thought he couldn't... But now that he turned it around in his mind, it was almost understandable that he couldn't speak with other people - the living.

First of all, he would scare the shit out of them. Secondly, what an advance it would be to Schwarz if he could read other people's thoughts with _no limits_... The mere idea of it was intoxicating. He could find out what was going on in Rosenkreuz itself, could read the Elders' thoughts, maybe even Crawford's thoughts, for God's sake! Surely it wouldn't be that bad if he left a note somewhere, an innocent sign that only the others would understood...

But even though the temptation was great, Schuldig nodded. "I understand the rules", he said, burying the thoughts of world-domination to the back of his head. It was a foolish goal, anyway.

Daniel searched something from his eyes for a moment and answered his nod. "Then you shall go back. It'll only be few hours after your death in the real world."

When the place started to slowly fade around him, Schuldig felt pain.

Lots of pain.

It was suffocating him, making him gag and gasp for air at the same time. His ribs were shifting closer to each other, squeezing him and emptying his lungs. He tried to reach Daniel - had the son of a bitch tricked him? - but the man was already backing further away from him. "Don't worry", he heard Daniel say, "it won't hurt much." He smiled, as serene as always. "Think it as being born again."

And in a way, Schuldig was.

xxx

_- end of chapter two._


	3. He Only Thought

**PenguinKye**: Thanks. I actuallyconsidered what you said, but I don't think it will happen anytime soon. The idea, however, will stay in my mind, so maybe. You never know.

x

Disclaimer: Not Mine. Takehito's still. Double-darn.

x

Chapter Three: He Only Thought He Was Going For The Thrill Of A Ride

His heard hurt. Again. But now his guts were in fire, too. Schuldig groaned and rubbed his eyelids with his hand. If he had known it would hurt _this_ much to return to earth, he might have chosen differently. It was indeed like he had been born again.

Schuldig sighed and let his hand relax, felt it fall off from the bed and hit the carpet.

Wait. The bed? Hadn't he been in the bed when he--

With a startled yelp, the German jumped out of his bed and backed to the wall. The sight that greeted him wasn't one of the nicest ones one could see when coming back.

His own body was on the bed. He was dressed in a white, long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans - he could remember throwing those on once he had decided to go clubbing but went harassing Brad instead. He didn't look any different from alive person on a first sight, but then one could see he was dead. Very dead, as his eyes were glassy and his skin was white and almost transparent. Schuldig saw his own face and its congealed, horrible grin.

_I look like a fucking clown_, he thought. _This is fantastic._

Suddenly his door opened. Schuldig turned his head and saw Crawford peeking in, his black hair neatly combed. "Schuldig, wake up, it's almost midday!" He saw the American frowning when he didn't answer.

_How in the hell could I answer, I'm fucking dead!_

"Schuldig?" Crawford's voice was lower when he cautiously approached the bed.

The precog was used to seeing dead people, Schuldig knew. He wasn't surprised when Crawford first mechanically tried his pulse and then touched his cheek. Crawford's fingers looked almost tanned against his white skin, though Schuldig knew his skin was - had used to be - slightly darker than the other man's.

"He's been dead for hours", Crawford murmured to himself. "But why?" he straightened his back and sighed, lifting his other hand to his own forehead. "Schuldig, you idiot... Why did you always annoy me when you knew I would just dismiss you? What was the point?"

Now Schuldig was surprised. He hadn't thought Brad to be one of those people who talked to the dead. Apparently he was, since he was talking to Schuldig. And had no idea that his team mate actually heard him.

Schuldig took two steps towards Crawford. He was almost standing behind the man. If he'd just reach he could touch him... But he couldn't. He didn't really want to 'fade away'.

And besides, he didn't want to miss this opportunity to screw around.

"... and now you finally managed to kill yourself."

Annoyed by himself, Schuldig backed up a bit and out of habit tried to read Crawford's well-shielded thoughts. Only this time it felt like there were no shields at all. The telepath's eyes widened when he easily found out that Brad had been complaining about his habit of using amphetamine occasionally. Now the American wondered how he could pass the news to Nagi.

_He's actually concerned?_ Schuldig snorted and got closer to his bed, peering his body around Crawford. He noticed that the man had closed his eyes - a good thing, he had looked really creepy with that grin and eyes wide open - and was still caressing his cheek. _Whattaa..._

"Crawford, is he... Oh my God!"

Schuldig spun around at the same time when Crawford snatched his hands back to himself.

Nagi had come to the door and clasped a hand on his mouth. "Is he... He is, isn't he?" The boy looked at Schuldig's body and took a cautious step forward. Then he froze. "He's dead... Why?" The telekinetic sounded hollow, his hand dropping to hang limply on his side.

"Drugs", Crawford explained, his annoyance radiating from him. "Amphetamine, I think. Overdose." He watched Schuldig's lifeless corpse as if waiting for him to jump up and yell, "Ha, got you guys!"

Schuldig snickered silently at the thought. He would have done something like that.

Nagi made a strangled sound and leaned on the door frame. Schuldig looked at him and felt bad, somehow. He hadn't wanted to upset Nagi, he really liked the kid at times. But some things you just couldn't avoid when accidentally killing yourself and this was one of them. The little voice in the back of his head that told him he could have left the amphetamine to the dealer's hands, was quickly silenced.

Crawford saw Nagi shaking and moved to him. Schuldig frowned a little when the precog touched Nagi's shoulder. Nagi didn't say anything, he just wrapped his arms around Crawford's middle and buried his head in his chest, shaking becoming uncontrolled. When Schuldig peeked into his mind, biting his bottom lip, overwhelming grief washed over him.

Gods, if he had known he would cause something like this! Schuldig shook his head and steeled himself, his lips tightening to a grim ghost of one of his usual smirks. He was dead, he had decided to stay here. Time to go on with it.

He slipped out of the door and moved down the hall. He was walking towards Farfarello's room but noticed that the Irish madman was gone. He could still hear Crawford softly speaking, trying to calm Nagi down. The entire apartment was shaking a little bit - the whole block probably was, outsiders would think it was just a small earthquake. Schuldig knew what caused it, and he wanted out.

People on the street looked busy, hurrying forward with their cars and blaring horns. Though it was nearing one past morning, the streets were full.

Schuldig walked along them, avoiding touching other people and being too... noticeable. It didn't really matter if it was crowded and he bumped into someone, but if it would be a little looser, people would get suspicious. One didn't really want a bunch of Japanese people starting to walk around and swing their hands all over the place. When he found an empty bench in a nearby park, he sat on it and grinned slightly. Time to test his abilities.

He reached out, slowly testing his environment. He didn't hear all the people at the same time, but he could pick up the person whose thoughts he wanted to pry on. It was like having his own talent back, but a lot, lot better one. Stronger. He couldn't control people, though, but this was enough to amuse him for a while.

After he had found out that the chief of the police was leading some kind of an anti-terrorist organization and was in love with his secretary, that Farfarello was on the borders of the town, attacking an almost abandoned church and that a stand-up comedienne had a show on the other side of the park, a short woman in neat, business-like clothes caught his attention.

She was standing across the road, a little left from Schuldig. She looked nervous and glanced around every once in a while. It was as if she was looking, or waiting, for someone. When the redhead read her thoughts, he snorted inapprovingly.

The woman was waiting for his ex-husband to bring their kids; it was her turn to have them for the weekend. Their divorce process had been long and messy and the court had granted the custody of the children to their father. True, she had had a drug-problem in her past, but she didn't use anything anymore.

Anyhow, her husband had used that fact as a weapon against her shamelessly. He had won, and she missed her beautiful twin girls a lot. She loved them, and still loved their father. The man had been very charming when they had met the first time and she had fallen for him head over heels.

Suddenly the woman straightened herself and looked a lot more alert. A broad-shouldered man was coming closer with two girls dressed in red clothes and carrying small bags. They screamed happily when they saw their mother and run to her waiting arms.The man, her former husband, stopped and just watched the kids hug their mother and babble about this and that.

After a short visit in his head Schuldig found out his anger towards the woman - whatever it had been - had died a long time ago and that he, too, still loved her strongly and sometimes silently wondered if they could start all over again. But he believed that her ex-wife hated him and could barely stand him. His idiocy almost made Schuldig groan out loud and bang his head on a nearby tree.

However, the German didn't do that: he only shook his head at their thoughts, sighing. _You should use your time well_, he found himself thinking. _You never know when it's all wasted._ The thought made Schuldig freeze and his eyes open wide.

Was that how he really thought about this all? Or was it just a backlash from Nagi's angsting? He wasn't sure at all and it unnerved him greatly.

Okay, he was dead but wasn't really _gone_. It wasn't like he couldn't still do fun things, like clubbing and dancing and all that. He couldn't speak with anyone though, but when had he needed other people? He had always walked his own ways, followed what or who he wanted: why not now choose a path all his own? He could travel the world for all the eternity.

But what when he'd have seen all the places on the earth? Surely he couldn't fly and go check if there really lived little green men in Mars, that wasn't one of the bonuses in being a dead person. He had to admit that li-- death would become boring, eventually.

Because all the eternity he had.

All for himself.

Alone.

Schuldig had been surrounded by other minds all his life, he had eventually gotten used to it. He felt suddenly oddly insecure, staring a little wildly at all the strangers' faces, passing him quickly, never stopping, always leaving him on his own.

Not making a sound in his head. Like ghosts.

"Fuck this", he whispered aloud and swallowed, "fuck this..." He almost ran all the way back to the Schwarz resident, the one place he had ever considered safe. Only when he reached the door, swung it open before and slammed closed after himself, his habitual breathing begun to calm down.

_- end of chapter three._


	4. Strange Mood What Is The Cure

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss.

Chapter Four: Strange Mood What Is The Cure

Farfarello was slowly making his way back to the house. Slowly, because some of the blood of the priest had splattered on his clothes, creating beautiful - if you didn't know what they were made of - flowers in full blossom. Deep red colour didn't look so red when he mostly hid on the alleys and waited in the darkness for by-passers to go. He didn't feel like killing anymore and just needed to wash himself clean of blood. It lost it fascinating glint so quickly on clothes...

His little trip had been delightful, oh so delightful. The church had been a pretty white little building with window paintings and all. He had circled around it for a while to make sure the priest was alone inside. Then he had burst in like a demon from Hell and told the man that his life had come to an end.

Which, of course, it hadn't done for the next couple of hours or so.

When he finally saw the house someone might have called 'home', he stopped to look at it suspiciously.

The lights were on - it was a late evening already - but something was very wrong, he could feel it in his bones. Crawford's black BMW was in the open garage, but so was Schuldig's old, red Audi. If telepath hadn't chosen to stay at home, which was rare by Farfarello's experience, he should have been gone already. The Irish man looked inside through one of the windows from the alley he was standing in, and saw Crawford looking at him with a slight frown on his face.

If the Oracle was waiting for especially him, something bad must have happened. Farfarello quickened his steps to long strides when he walked over the road and to the door that opened a second before he managed to touch it. As he had expected.

Nagi stood in front of him, looking up to him with tired eyes. His clothes were crumbled, as if he had been sleeping with them on. Which was strange; Farfarello couldn't remember the boy sleeping in the middle of the day ever.

"It's about time", Nagi said and made room for him to come in. When he had shrugged off the light coat he had had on, the boy gestured to follow him upstairs. "Crawford says we have to discuss about--" His voice caught in his throat and it took a moment to clear. "--things."

The man followed Nagi upstairs, wondering what was going on. A new mission? Something from Estet? From what he knew, it could have been anything.

"Don't joke with me."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, but Crawford's stern look told him that the American was not joking at all. But it was so hard to believe that Schuldig was dead: if Farfarello had been asked who of them would die first, he would have, with no hesitation, said that he himself would die before all the others, either on a mission or on his own.

But Schuldig... He had always been a wild person, untouchable and fast like a flame in all it's beauty and destructing power. Farfarello couldn't believe that he was dead. It was the thing he had thought most unlikely to happen. Schuldig had practically _avoided_ death at times.

Nagi made a small noise behind him and he turned to look at the telekinetic. The Japanese was leaning on the wall, his normal, cold mask on its place. Something in his behavior and looks, however, told the killer that he should indeed believe in what Crawford had said. The leader of Schwarz never lied to them, after all. It would have been... fatal.

"We need to change our mission tactics", the said man announced, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Without a telepath we cannot trust to only our skills so much. There are surprises to come, even if I have Visions." His voice was toneless but tired, as if he was unhappy about the German's death, too.

"Aren't you going to request another telepath from Estet?" Farfarello tried the ice with a stick: he wasn't sure what Crawford would answer, but wasn't definitely expecting that small flicker of annoyance in brown eyes and almost a disappointed look.

"No", Crawford shook his head. "I have to report his death first and I haven't done it yet." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, turning to search the papers on his desk, and Farfarello and Nagi left the room.

They walked downstairs in silence and continued their separate ways from the hall, Nagi going back to his room and Farfarello going to the bathroom. He stripped off his bloody clothes, tossed them to a basket and took a long shower, washing off the dirt, and thought. Crawford had told that Schuldig had died of an overdose: that had been another surprise, the man had usually been careful with his drugs. Had something happened when Farfarello had been in his room, planning on the next day?

The Irish thought of where Schuldig could be right now. Heaven was not a place for someone like the redheaded devil, but it didn't seem likely that he would have gone to Hell, either. Not if he had been asked about it, anyway.

The white-haired man shook his head to dry off his short hair and chase away the thoughts. He missed a partner-in-crime, somehow, but didn't have that empty feeling that usually haunted those who had lost a close someone. It was like Schuldig had never left the house.

Odd.

Nagi closed the door behind him and sighed, flicking on the lights with his telekinesis. Without a glance he switched on his CD-player and put in the debut album of some German techno band. The strong bass helped him to organize his thoughts and calm down. He hadn't been surprised at Farfarello's reaction - no one had really known how much the madman lived in his own worlds but Schuldig - but that didn't help the fact that he felt angry. Angry and disappointed.

How could have Schuldig been so stupid? Nagi sat down on his bed and stared at the opposite wall without really seeing it. He remembered the white sheets and white skin against them, orange hair the only colourful thing in his team mate's room. He had been really horrified before Crawford had blocked the view: it didn't matter how many dead people he had seen during his short life - dozens, with no doubt - but he had known Schuldig when he had been alive...

Dead was always different when it happened to people you knew.

A silent sob tried to rise in his throat but he forced it back. If the damn telepath hadn't been so damn stupid and taken too many pills - _he damn well knew his limits!_ - he would be alive now. Schwarz wouldn't be one member down. Crawford wouldn't be more distanced than he had been in ages. And Nagi wouldn't feel so damn bad about it.

Techno bass beat alone in the room that was otherwise silent for a long time. The boy was laying on his bed, midnight-like eyes closed tightly, dreaming of better times. Slowly, almost unnoticed, another voice joined the beat. It hummed in low key, following the beat.

Nagi frowned a little when this new voice joined the music that was keeping his thoughts away and changed it. He tried to ignore it at first but gave up soon and sat up, opening his eyes and rubbing them tiredly. When he lifted his gaze up and let it drift in the room, silencing the music with a flick of his hand, he caught something familiar with his peripheral vision and turned his head to right.

Schuldig - it was somehow smudged at the edges, like a figure seen through dirty glasses, but Schuldig nonetheless - was sitting on his drawer. "Hi, chibi", he said and stopped humming, tilting his head a little and studying the boy's looks. "Not too happy, are you?"

Nagi did something he never had done before.

He screamed at the top of his lungs.

_- end of chapter four._


	5. He's Got That Feeling

Disclaimer: WK belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss.

Betaed by RedQueen.

xxx

Chapter Five: He's Got That Feeling Of Impending Doom

xxx

The German jumped hastily off of the worn out piece of furniture and took a quick step towards Nagi. Without noticing it, he passed through a strong, solid wall the telekinetic had placed in his way to stop him. "Quiet, Nagi, quiet," he tried to hush the boy. "It's okay, it's just me." He stopped when he saw the look of utter horror on the pale face. "... Calm down, kiddo. Now." Sometimes strict orders found a way through the thickest fog of panic.

Now happened to be 'sometimes'. Nagi's eyes narrowed a little as he forced himself to calm down and take a deep breath. "You--"

Nagi's wooden door burst suddenly open, revealing Farfarello standing in the doorway. Apparently he had heard Nagi's scream and come to the rescue. He had wrapped a white towel around his middle and was staring at Schuldig. Crawford was right behind him, a gun in hand. "Kid, what's--" Crawford's question was cut off in the middle when he saw what was going on in the room.

Schuldig raised his both hands in a defensive gesture. "No screams, please," he said, sighing and shaking his head warily. "My head hurts already. I can explain, but I don't have that much time. They will come for me."

Crawford made his way past the stunned Irish man and stepped in front of the telepath. "What is going on, Schuldig?" His voice was demanding, though it shook a little. Your dead friends didn't come back every day. "Who will come?"

"Ah," the man answered, "I'm not quite sure about that. And yes," he said before the American had time to voice his question, "I am really dead. A... ghost of sorts. Listen, now." He waved his right hand dismissively, cutting off the older man. "I don't have time for questions, only answers." He quieted for a moment, considering the situation. "There is something after death, Brad." He grinned slightly, an abnormally grim look gracing his features.

The precog knew that the situation wasn't in his hands anymore. And he hated it dearly. "Really?" he asked, unconsciously understanding Schuldig's haste. "What?"

"A little simple guy called Daniel," Schuldig said, his grin disappearing. "You- we get to choose because we are Talents. Three options, Brad, remember that: heaven or hell, fading and returning." He spoke with short sentences when he explained what had happened to him last night - _had it only been that long ago?_ - and made sure that Crawford understood.

Nagi had crawled off his bed while the German talked and snatched his sleeve. "Why aren't there other talents wandering around?" he asked, being the smart little kid he was.

Schuldig looked sad. "There are rules if you return," he said. "I have broken them by talking to you, so I will be faded."

"What does that mean?" Crawford cut in. The word had confused him earlier when Schuldig had used it and he needed to know what the exact meaning of it was.

"They will erase me from existence. Totally."

The answer left them all standing in silence, all pondering the redhead's answer. Finally Farfarello opened his mouth. "You said they will come for you," he repeated Schuldig's earlier words, a deadly purr in his voice.

It didn't escape any of the others, when they glanced at the madman, that he was playing with a knife. God only knew where he had got it from. No one had any doubt what Farfarello had in mind, it was plainly written on his face and in his stance.

Someone sighed sadly behind them and one yellow eye went impossibly wide. "Lost at such a young age... There are people who pray for your soul every day, my son."

Schwarz turned as one and saw an old man with long, gray hair and brown eyes standing next to Nagi's bed in a white robe. He was tall and gentle-looking and eyed stunned Farfarello with a sort of helplessness. Nagi was the first to understand who he was and he quickly placed a wall between the man and Farfarello, before the Irish was clear-headed enough to move.

The grey-haired stranger nodded at Nagi and then turned to look at Schuldig, who was watching him carefully. "I think we had a discussion about this."

"We?" the German spat out. "But you aren't- you're not- you were, weren't you?" His blue eyes turned hard and got a cold gleam. "It must have been _hard_ to let one sinner escape the depths of Hell."

"I never wanted anyone to go in there," the man corrected him calmly. "But put aside your objections, now, for we must leave. You have broken the rule you knew so well, and you know the consequences." He extended out his hand, palm turned outwards. It wasn't an offer to take or leave, not really, but an offer to take or to be taken. He was willing to play nice if Schuldig was.

Schuldig wasn't: he shook his head, fiery locks shaking wildly, and took a step back. "No," he said, though he knew that if the man really wanted it, he would have no choice. "I don't want to! I'm too keen on living!"

The man just sighed again and his voice took a harder tone when he spoke. "Just come, Schuldig." 'Schuldig' was what the others heard - the German himself heard something else entirely. "It will be easier that way."

"No." But it wasn't the telepath who answered, it was Nagi. The boy was standing beside Schuldig with a stubborn look in his eyes. He was still gripping a long sleeve, knuckles turned as white as the thin fabric. "No. I won't let you." His eyes glowed eerily and his dark hair shifted in the air around him, the smell of electricity strong: all signs of him gathering his power. "He was gone once."

"Nagi's right," Crawford said calmly from the doorway, as if he was discussing politics or weather. "My team is one member down, sir. That is not acceptable." He adjusted his glasses with his index finger; light glinted off them. "I must request that you let him stay." He glanced at Farfarello. "Or I have to use other ways to make that happen. It would be difficult, I have no doubt, but I have my ways."

Farfarello just grinned darkly. "To thee I have lost enough people whom I consider worth keeping," he said, his only eye sharp and clear. "I shall not lose the Mindbreaker, too." He held his knife in a seemingly relaxed grip, but he was ready for an attack at any second.

"Perhaps you could make an exception?" Crawford suggested casually; a very determined human rising up to meet his Creator.

Schuldig could only stare at his team, utterly confused but feeling pleasantly warm inside. He looked hesitantly at the being he had never expected to meet personally.

Brown eyes were serious when the old man looked at Schuldig. "There are no exceptions," he said. He turned to look at Nagi, at Farfarello, and finally at Crawford, as to make sure that they understood his words. "None." Then he snapped his fingers, the sound resonating through the whole room.

All existence stopped for a second that lasted all eternity and beyond.

xxx

_- end of chapter five._


	6. On the Road We Call Alive

**A/N:** Hi. Well, here goes the last chapter of The Blackest Sea. I hope you all had fun with the fic. And thanks to all the people who read/reviewed. By the way, all of the chapter titles of this fic are taken from a single song. Can you guess what it is?

**Beta:** RedQueen

xxx

Chapter Six: On The Road We Call Alive

xxx

Schuldig follows Crawford with his eyes when he works. The German is perched comfortably on his worktable and swings his legs back and forth once in a while. His usual smirk is in place, even if his eyes are thoughtful.

The precog ignores him. He has a report to do; their latest mission wasn't as successful as it should have been, and the Elders want to know why. Crawford knows Schwarz might be punished - if he isn't reassuring enough. He re-reads the text he's written and frowns a little. It's not one of his best explanations, but it is enough.

He has seen it.

The German on his table doesn't move when he gets up and faxes the report. Schuldig just turns his head, keeping Crawford in his sight.

When the report is faxed, Crawford puts the original in a folder where all the other failure reports are.

There aren't many. Schwarz is a good team.

"Hey Brad."

The American doesn't turn to look at Schuldig but puts the folder back in its place on the bookshelf. He has told Schuldig several times to use his surname and he's not going to repeat himself anymore. After a few minutes of cold, uncomfortable silence Schuldig sighs and gives up.

"Crawford." The telepath sounds oddly weary, as if he was awfully tired.

Crawford answers just out of curiosity, still staring at the folder. "Yes?"

"Ever wondered what comes after death?"

The taller man snorts softly - he isn't surprised to hear the question, not really. It's something Schuldig often thinks about.

But he is, however, surprised at a sudden feeling of uneasiness and worry. He is going to respond indifferently but instead hesitates a little - _a flash of a grin, blood-freezing_ - and gives Schuldig an honest answer. "Sometimes, if I have been bored out of my mind. Which luckily doesn't happen too often. You?" He turns around slowly.

The German is obviously surprised at his blunt confession. "... Yeah," he manages, recovering quickly. "But I haven't come up with anything worth waiting for." He grins, eyes shiny and bright and blue, full of life and almost beautiful. "I'm going clubbing. I'll be back before morning."

Crawford's eyes go glassy for a second. He blinks for a little while and sits down on his office chair. "Don't make much noise upon your return. Nagi will be annoyed."

With a mischievous look, Schuldig nods obediently. "Yes, mom." The American's glare doesn't have an effect on him. "Will you miss me while I'm gone?" the telepath asks from the door, halfway out already.

"Not that much." Honey-brown eyes are going through papers on the wooden desk, firmly staying on the white sheets as Crawford answers casually, tone carefully emotionless. He glances over the rim of his glasses, seeing an odd look on Schuldig's thin face.

It's half his usual, smug grin, and half a small genuine smile. "Goodnight, Brad," the redhead wishes before disappearing, purposely breaking the unspoken rules.

Goodnight, Crawford thinks when he has heard the front door slam closed and is pretty sure that Schuldig has gone far away enough. Somehow he still gets a feeling that the telepath has caught his thought and is laughing at him.

It doesn't really matter.

xxx

-_ end of chapter six and 'The Blackest Sea'_


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